Brass Folly
by DeadlyGodiva
Summary: Connor is stubborn, so is Angel. It is a battle of wits/wills yet there is no loser at the end, except for a sore one that is. This story describes a full, non-consensual, spanking between parent and child, I don't skimp on the details, so fair warning.


Brass Folly

Disclaimer: I merely came up with the story idea, for free.

Author's Note: Just to make sure there are no nasty surprises, this story has a fully detailed spanking in it. It is a non-consensual, parental and child spanking, so then if you do not agree with that stance of parenting, don't like reading about spanking period, or this kind isn't to your liking, then by all means pass this story on by, it won't get any better the longer you read it. And with that...on with the story.

* * *

><p>Gingerly clutching his coat against his right side, Connor tried not to walk with such a visible limp that someone might take notice it, or him.<p>

Damn demons.

He thought that he'd drawn them all out into the open, but a couple had still been hiding away in the woods, and they made their presence known when he found himself taken down from behind in the middle of the fight.

His ankle had ended up badly twisted in the fall, which worried him, along with his entire left leg. The skin stretched over the ribs on his right side had also been slashed opened by a set of claws from one of the sneaky bastards.

Connor could feel the dampness of sticky, tepid blood that soaked through the thin shirt he was wearing and now stained his hand that covered the wound.

He pressed down as hard as he could stand to, trying to keep the freely flowing red substance from seeping out of him anymore than it already had.

Wincing and biting back a groan at the sudden, sharp sensation of pain he quickened his pace.

He just wanted to go home, clean up, get some rest, and give his fast healing properties a chance to take effect before morning.

It'd been one of the few qualities he was actually thankful his mother and father had passed on to him.

Connor dragged his almost lame leg along as he reached the dark alley behind his building. Opening a, well, once locked, side door, he cast one last, cautious, glance left to right and then slipped inside.

He looked up at the long, winding lot of stairs that led up to his room on the top floor. The boy sighed, close to pouting; with his almost worthless left leg to contend with, the trip was going to take a lot longer than normal, and be a lot less comfortable to boot.

Finally, after a few breaks for air and to whimper to himself with no one around to hear him while making sure he wasn't opening up the oozing hole in his side any further, Connor found himself at the top.

He hobbled down the short hallway toward the door at the end. Kicking it open unceremoniously with his good leg, he walked inside the room that lay beyond it.

Connor made his way, slowly, over to his bed. "Shit..." He muttered the curse as he dropped down to sit on it. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand off of the wound underneath his coat.

Wiping the bloody extremity on his torn jeans, Connor carefully wriggled free of his jacket. Tossing it aside to land on a chair next to the bed, he stared down at the tee-shirt that he still wore.

He wondered whether he should leave it alone and wait till morning to deal with the lesion or just get it over and done with now.

"So what is the great, good, law abiding champion doing...doing... what's it called again?" Connor asked aloud as he kept his head down, inspecting the wound still while softly hissing.

A short laugh sounded out from the opposite side of the room, crackling through the darkness.

"I believe you're referring to breaking and entering?"

"Yeah, that," Connor finally looked over into the fainting shadows, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, managing to make out a moving form coming closer towards him.

"I think you were guilty of that yourself months ago," came the reply as a tall figure fully emerged.

Angel stood imposingly in the pale moonlight that came streaming through the smeared, dirty glass in one of the windows with a number of boards missing from its front frame.

Connor watched his father wearing a slight smirk, "What are you doing here?"

"I have a better question," Angel stared intently at his child, "What were you doing _not_ being here?"

Connor was, and looked, puzzled, "I don't get...that doesn't make any sense."

"Makes plenty of sense," the traveling man drew nearer, "You went out tonight, were you supposed to go out? Or better yet, are you allowed to?"

Connor sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh come on..."

Angel paused in front of the bed, to Connor's left, and dropped down on one knee.

"What are you-" Connor didn't get to finish his question as Angel tapped on his left leg, making him gasp aloud in pain, "Ow..."

"You've hurt it," Angel offered up the unnecessary commentary as he looked into his son's grimacing face, "Again."

Connor set his hands down on either side of him on the bed and pushed off it, moving himself up so he could scoot backwards some, to safety. "Just a little."

"Making yourself a little bit of a cripple is still a pretty big deal Connor." Angel took the injured leg in one hand and slowly felt it over with prodding fingertips, searching for any broken bones or torn ligaments.

"I didn't break anything Angel, I just—ah! Just twisted it when I fell..." Connor squirmed against Angel's gentle yet unrelenting touch.

"Fell doing what, exactly?" Angel posed the question as he got down to the ankle that he could tell was swollen but not fractured, thankfully considering the close call from just a few weeks previous.

Connor was silent, deciding to look down at the new hole in his jeans in favor of giving an answer, because he knew a lie wouldn't cut it and the truth wouldn't exactly be his friend at the moment either.

Angel lifted his head back up then to meet Connor's downcast eyes despite the boy's efforts to avoid responding. "I asked you a question."

He bit down on the soft, yielding flesh of his bottom lip. He really did hate it whenever Angel got stern with him, it didn't bode well for things to come.

"You already know so—"

"Doesn't matter what I already know, I want to hear it come from you."

"I fell while fighting." Connor gave his reluctant reply quietly.

"Right," Angel, finished with Connor's leg, gradually lowered the limb in his grip back down to rest against the floor. "And is that something you should be doing right now?"

"Why do you keep asking me questions when you already know the answers to them?"

Angel sat back on his heels, hands covering Connor's knees as he inspected the frowning face of the adolescent. "Because I want you to admit to me what you did tonight, I'm not going to do it for you."

Connor let his gaze drop down again to his hands now tucked away in his lap, "I know..."

"You know?" Angel interrupted him, "You know what? That you sprained your ankle to the point where you had to wear a brace for weeks and just got it taken off? Or that the doctor told both of us that you were to try and stay off of it for another two weeks to give it a chance to reset itself and heal properly? Or, how about that I gave you explicit orders to do exactly as he said and that there was to be no patrolling until he gave the ok that you were good as new?"

Angel's eyes had stared glowing as they stared into Connor's contrite own. "Does that pretty much sum up what you _know_?"

Connor didn't dare say a word and Angel didn't expect or want him to either.

"I'll be right back." The large man got back up to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Connor questioned as he watched his father walk away.

"Always knew this would come in handy one day." Angel returned with a first aid kit in his hand, one he had insisted be kept on hand underneath a sink cabinet.

He placed it down on the bed and got back down into his earlier position. "Arms up."

"What? Why?"

"I said put your arms up," Angel clarified, "I need to get that t-shirt off of you first."

"But I can..."

"No, you can't. Because some of your blood has dried on the shirt and now it's attached to your skin; you'll just rip the wound open more if you try to get it off yourself, but I can see what I'm doing so, arms."

Connor softly groaned to himself. He knew his father was right but that didn't make it any more comfortable for him to stand it happening; it was far too close to being undressed like a baby or something.

Angel wasn't in the mood to deal with more disobedience from his son all things considered. "Connor, get them up now or I'll get them up for you."

The tone of his voice left no doubt that by this point Angel's level of patience was very, very low, and that anymore resistance on the boy's part was only going to make everything that much worse for him later on.

Connor silently lifted his arms up over his head and waited.

"Try and keep still." Angel took the bottom of the t-shirt and began pulling it up. When he got to the jagged claw marks in it, he stopped. Tugging gently at the blood stained, stiff cotton, he got one section loose from his son's skin as carefully as he could.

Connor closed his eyes and held his tongue between his teeth; it hurt, a lot, but he tried his best to keep quiet and not move.

Angel was more than aware of Connor's discomfort, but he focused on the work before him, there'd be time to tend to the other needs when he was finished.

Connor's arms started to feel heavy as he tried to maintain their position straight above his head; he rarely realized just how hard it could be to keep still for so long.

"I'm almost done," Angel assured him as he continued to inch the cloth upward. After another minute or two he made good on his word and had the material free of the laceration. He slipped the shirt on off the child's body completely and dropped it on the floor to throw away later.

Connor, gratefully, let his arms relax and lowered them down to settle once again at his sides, glad it was all over.

"Lay down on your good side," Angel commanded while he got busy opening up the kit.

"What for?"

He looked over at him, features perturbed. "Is there some reason you keep questioning everything I tell you to do?"

"I'm not," Connor remarked as Angel shook his head. "Yes you are, and the faster I get those cuts cleaned out, the lesser of a chance there is for you to get an infection from them."

"But..."

Angel knew Connor wasn't the most capable person when it came to just following orders with no questions asked, especially his, though it would be a huge improvement if he could learn the talent, and fast.

"Connor, I'm not going to operate on you alright? Now would you just lie down?"

When Connor still refused and didn't move, he wasn't suddenly an invalid, Angel set the items he was holding down on the bed and placed his empty hands on Connor's slim thighs this time around.

"You've already earned yourself a session over my lap, do you really want to get extra?"

Against his strong will not to let his emotions get the better of him, Connor could feel that familiar, irritating, prickle start up and begin stabbing at his eyes. From anger, fear, shame, and remembering those not so long ago times past when he'd ended up in the exact same position.

But there was no leeway or pity coming from Angel who only looked at him wearing a neutral expression. "Well? What's it going to be?"

Connor slowly shook his head and turned to do as he'd been told. Leaning over, the teen landed on his unscathed side with his head resting on a arm.

Angel was fairly somber as he opened up a bottle of anesthetic and poured a small amount out on a cotton cleaning pad.

Connor braced himself for first contact, but was still surprised when he felt the stinging, burning liquid touch down on his overly exposed skin. He sucked in a breath and tried not to recoil from the irritant.

Angel waited for Connor to calm down some before he dabbed lightly at another area.

On they went with the little ritual until Angel had cleaned away every bit of blood, dirt, and whatever other foreign objects that might have found their way into the mangled flesh at some point.

Connor was incredibly relived once he knew it was all over. It'd felt as though the god awful substance had soaked all the way down to his bones, the horrid stuff.

Angel tore open a pack of gauze and unwrapped half of it. Placing the thick material over the injured area, he then smacked Connor mildly on the butt, "Sit up."

Connor jumped, startled, but it hadn't hurt, much. With a helping hand from Angel for support, he was able to comply without pain.

Looping the extra long gauze strip around Connor's ribs and going around and around to secure it, Angel ensured that the bandage would stay in place until it would need to be changed later on.

"All done," Angel started to put the unused aids back into the kit for safekeeping.

Connor gazed down at his side and tenderly touched the sheer, white, and bulky protection he now had to contend with.

"Are you trying to get that contaminated?" Angel asked as he snapped the case shut.

Connor glanced up at him and blinked. "No."

"Then unless your hands are clean you need to leave it alone."

"Okay..." Connor acknowledged softly as he allowed his eyes to widen and then averted them to one side, a typical, peeved teenager look plastered on his face.

"You have another shirt you can put on?"

"I do laundry, so yeah."

Angel stood to his feet and narrowed his eyes a touch, "Did I ask for a smart ass answer?"

"No," Connor responded, somewhat chastised. "I have some put away in that drawer over there," he offered as he pointed out a hutch behind the man.

"Better, and you know, I wouldn't have to ask if I was around you enough to know where you keep anything in here, or if you lived with me then I would do your laundry instead."

"Is that offer supposed to make me want to move in with you?"

Angel scrutinized Connor from across the room where he held a shirt in each hand, " No, it is not, I was just making a simple observation. "

"Yeah right," Connor returned as he kicked off his boots and reached down to pull off his socks, "Ah damn!" He let out a low moan of pain and held onto his side, cursing under his breath.

"Why would you try and do that by yourself...?"

Angel shook his head in frustration and rushed over to his son with chosen shirt in hand.

"Is it possible that you could think to maybe ask me to help you do that, Connor, that wound runs very deep, unless, of course, you are trying to split it open so you can get stitches."

"I didn't mean..." Connor stopped as Angel yanked off one sock, clearly annoyed. "I just…I thought I could do it by myself."

"But you're not alone, I am here to help, and you need to understand that and start asking for help, especially when you're this hurt."

The boy stayed mute as Angel got his other sock off and then helped him, deliberately, put the clean shirt on finally.

Grabbing the chair stashed in the corner behind Connor's bed, Angel sat down in it, arms crossed. "Now we can talk."

"Do we really have to?" Connor wasn't looking forward to the talking, or what was bound to come afterward.

Angel ignored the silly question. "You and I had a little chat after I brought you back from the doctor's, remember what it was about?"

"Dad..."

Usually when he switched from 'Angel' to 'Dad' the boy strummed the man's heart strings, but tonight it only got a snort.

"Connor, it's late, I don't need anything else from you but answers, _straight_ answers."

"Fine—" Connor caught himself, just in the nick of time, before he snapped back a mouthy retort. "You said that I was gonna have to go along with the rules he gave me."

"And which one did he point out as being the most important to follow?"

Connor exhaled slowly, "No strenuous activity…"

"I think patrolling was at the top of the list I gave you as something you couldn't do since it would count as a..."

"It's different than before now!" Connor interjected.

"You mean when you had the brace on?"

"Yes, you even made me come and live with you at the hotel before."

"Because that brace put you at a big disadvantage, and I wasn't leaving you here alone to get into trouble. It was taking me forever to get that through your thick skull, so you didn't leave me much other choice."

An uncivil expression briefly flickered across the child's face. "Whatever. When he took the brace off, he..."

Angel chuckled and held up his hand, "He checked you out, I know, I was there, but did he say you were one hundred percent when he was done?"

Connor grumbled and muttered at first instead of giving a real response.

Angel wasn't having any of it at this point." Connor you were right there, what did he say?"

"He said—" Connor took a moment, hating that he had to tell the truth. "He said that I was almost..."

"And right there we have our magic word, _almost_. Do you know what almost means Connor?" Angel leaned forward to look his son dead in the eye. "I'll tell you what it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean that your ankle was well enough yet to put much strain on it or try and overuse it. And he made sure to tell you to give it, at least, another two weeks healing time. Now, how long has it been?"

Connor fiddled with the frayed edge of his shirt, his teeth clenched and jaw set insolently.

"I am not going to play this game with you." Angel's words carried along them a note of resolution in regards to Connor's attitude. "I swear to god you just love making things more difficult than they have to be."

He moved with such swiftness the brooding teenager didn't know what he was doing until he'd already done it.

Grabbing hold of Connor's free arm close to him, Angel, not so gently either, hauled him up to stand. Connor rested heavily on his right side so as not to put pressure on his left leg and looked down in surprise at his father.

Angel paid him no mind as he took his other hand and whacked the backs of Connor's tender thighs, landing five smacks to each before he stopped.

Despite the fact that he was wearing a pair of pretty thick jeans, it didn't matter when Angel possessed enough strength in him to deliver a blow that contained the might of about twenty for the average human, and even that was only when he bothered to hold back on the amount of power he put behind his swinging arm.

Connor's mouth dropped open in shock and he hastily reached down with his unrestrained hand to rub the areas which now smarted and stung.

"Oww!"

Angel sat his son back down on the bed, not giving him much time to try and deal with the ache in his lower legs.

Connor looked at him with eyes watery, he always hated how they could fill up so quickly, and chin somewhat quivering.

"We can keep on doing this dance all night Connor, but do not think for one second that when I get you over my knee I'm going to go any easier on you than I planned to before. So now, am I going to get an answer or do you want me to aim a little higher up next time?"

Connor, breath unsteady, resisted against leaking any of the tears that obscured his vision. "No sir..." he murmured respectfully.

Angel settled back down into his seat. "How long?"

"One—one week…" Connor gave out the tentative answer.

"Right, one week, which means you still have one more to go doesn't it?"

Connor nodded with his head bowed.

"One more week until we were to go back, have him examine you, and then, and only then, if he said it was alright, you could get back to things as usual. I told you that day I wanted you to keep staying at the hotel, but you begged, remember, begged and pleaded with me to let you come back. And I did, despite, my better judgment, on that one condition, and the fact I thought I could trust you to keep your word to me to not go out and hunt."

"And I was going to but..." Connor started, "I mean, it's not like I planned on going out tonight, I just—I got bored and figured that my ankle would hold up okay, it hasn't been hurting or anything."

"Was that your decision to make? Connor you never seemed to grasp the importance of being able to fight to the fullest of your ability, at the highest degree of health, and I've always been afraid that is what's going to get you killed one day."

Connor lifted up his head to look at Angel, his cheeks flushed with color at the man's words.

"There are demons that can sense a injury or that you are hurt, and they will go after it or try and manipulate you in your weakened state. You said you fell during the fight, how?"

"I was jumped from behind…"

Angel nodded, "See? You have never let any enemy do that before, because you've never battled with that kind of injury before. You're lucky you were able to defeat them, and luck can be a very fleeting gift Connor, one you might not be given the next time."

Connor stared down at his feet with his eyebrows knitted together. Why was it when something seemed to make perfect sense to him, Angel could come along and make it out to be the stupidest, most thoughtless thing that he'd ever done. Though here it wasn't very hard for him to do that but still...

"I watched you."

Connor's head shot up at that, " You what…?"

"I followed you there and watched the entire fight, making sure that if it got too much for you I was there to help out."

"You were spying on me!"

Angel's left eyebrow found his hairline with ease. "Is right now a good time to raise your voice at me?"

Connor shut up at once.

"Yes, I followed you. In fact I've been spending every, single night this week watching over you."

Connor opened his mouth to say something but Angel cut him off.

"—Because, I had a sneaking little suspicion that my son would break our agreement."

"So you never trusted that I could keep it at all?"

"This was not about trust but being realistic Connor. I know you too well, staying home while there's evil out and about to maim and kill is practically impossible to do. It's in your blood to go after the bad guys, and those feelings can be very hard to deny night after night. But even so I still was hopeful that you would be able to do it anyway, not just for me but for your own sake as well. Connor, I can understand why you did it but I can't excuse that you didn't have to, and shouldn't have. Sometimes it's hard to do the right thing, incredibly hard when we don't agree that it is, but if you decide to do what you want instead then you have to face up to the consequences after."

"I'm sorry..." The only words Connor could think of were whispered humbly as the boy shifted nervously on the bed.

"I'm sorry too," Angel remarked. "Lets get this over with." He sat up straighter in the chair and motioned to his child, "Come here."

"Do we have to do it tonight?" Connor asked as he took his sweet time standing up.

"It won't kill you to have pain in three areas of your body, especially since you brought it all on yourself."

"Butttt..." Connor drew out the word as he inched forward.

Angel shook his head. "No, I don't want to hear it, no whining about this, you do the crime, you do the time, and I'm going to need the brush."

Connor stopped moving at his father's words and stared at him "No—"

"Am I asking you for your permission?" Angel tipped his head to one side, "Go and get it."

"Please..."

Connor didn't ever like to petition his father, for much anyway, and normally Angel just used his hand, which did a good enough job all on its own, Connor could very well attest to that. But those few times Angel had used the brush too...he wasn't looking forward to feeling that kind of pain, ever.

"We don't have time for this, I said go and get it, right now."

Connor still dared to balk in place of beginning to obey, hoping beyond hope he'd reconsider.

Angel gave his hesitant child a mild look of dissipating patience, "Do you want me to go and get it myself?"

"Okay, okay I'm going…" Connor knew well enough to not to push Angel any further because he was close to his limit.

How his feet stayed relativity close to the ground and that he didn't stomp over, with his good leg at least, to the table was a miracle.

Picking up the handled offender, Connor held it tightly in his hand, somewhat wishing he could snap it in two.

With his back to his father, Angel had been able to look rightly amused at Connor's antics, like a little five year old, it was pretty cute to see him emoting rather than withdrawing as he often did.

When Connor turned around, Angel instantly lost the smile and his unreadable gaze was put back in place.

He walked slowly, or better yet, dragged his feet, as he crossed the floor once more. Coming to a stop in front of Angel, he handed over the instrument of pain.

Angel took it and set it down on the bed to wait until he was ready to use it.

Connor started to reach for the button on his jeans but Angel stopped him. "We'll start with them up."

Now that sounded like a lenient allowance on Angel's part, but it wasn't really, and Connor knew what his true agenda was.

The more covering he wore at the beginning, the longer Angel could spank him.

Grabbing onto Connor's left arm, he pulled him over to his right knee and tugged him on down across it.

Connor planted his hands in front of him to help keep his balance, his toes just barely touching down on the other side.

With the lecture already taken care of, Angel got right to work.

_**Smack!**_

The instant Angel's hand made contact Connor felt the reverberations of the firm spank spread throughout his body like a jolt of lighting.

Connor closed his eyes tightly and tried to get a handle on how much his butt was hurting already. No matter how many times he got himself into this type of situation, the pain never seemed to be something he was, or even ever could be, prepared to handle.

Angel found his rhythm without delay and continued the staccato pace as his hand came down across his son's lower half in rapid repetition.

The teenager wanted so badly to be able to shift his body, because in his current position he had no protection for any of his lower extremities below his hips and they were getting punished as well.

With his legs almost off the ground, his thighs couldn't crease and so his sit spots were just as much targets as any other part of him.

It did seem as though his father was quite aware of his predicament even as his hand would come down sharply on that area every few rounds, igniting an throbbing, burning sensation that made Connor ball up his hands into fists, trying to stay composed.

What good were his jeans if they couldn't protect him worth a damn? Connor was very well aware of the fact that Angel's hand could cut through the thickest of materials with no problems whatsoever. And he also knew that when those jeans eventually came off, he would be able to tell the big difference between having them up compared to down.

But the knowledge of those proven actualities did absolutely nothing for Connor in the here and now and that is what mattered most to him.

Angel noticed that Connor was starting to jump, ever so slightly, every time his hand came down and knew the tenderizing of the child's backside was beginning to affect him to the point where he couldn't hid his reactions behind his deeply ingrained wall of indifference.

Delivering another agonizing sequence of hard smacks that left his son gasping for air, he then stopped.

Connor flinched as Angel's hand left his bottom and braced himself for it to crash back down again but instead found himself being lifted up into the air.

He soon found out why once Angel had flipped him over to lay on his back across the man's firm lap. Looking up at his father, Connor took one second to recognize his new position and the next to panic.

"Dad, wait—" His hands, of their own free will, traveled down to his jean's crotch and covered it up, keeping him at bay.

Angel looked down at him with eyes awash of fading tolerance, "Move them."

Connor shook his head in response as he fought against that stupid prickling which had come back to lie right behind his eyes, much stronger than before.

"Connor, I don't want to have to spank you for much longer, and I'm sure you feel the same way. But, if you do not move those hands in the next three seconds, not only will I get your jeans down my own self, I will make up the time you cost me with the hairbrush."

Connor titled his head backwards, his mouth going dry at Angel's promise.

His father could and would rip his jeans right off of him in a split second and he was entirely helpless to do anything about it, not something he wanted to ever admit but knew to be true in his heart.

Too afraid of how he'd react if there was more added onto what he already had coming, nothing could be worth that he wagered, Connor slowly let go of his pants and pulled his arms in to his chest, his hands clasped together tightly.

Angel was silent determination in motion as he undressed his son. The desire to cry, out of humiliation and trepidation, was growing stronger as Connor could now feel water pooling up in the corners of his eyes.

Once Angel had gotten the jeans loose he started to flip Connor back over, the whole time yanking on the back of the waistband to pull them down and off his son's round bottom.

When the teen finally found himself back on his stomach, his jeans were hanging halfway down his thighs.

Wasting no more time, Angel picked up his hand and took aim.

The instant Connor's hind end was introduced to a new barrage of powerful smacks, his senses were overwhelmed from how much more they hurt now that his only source of protection was a sole, flimsy pair of cotton briefs.

"Ow..." Connor couldn't remain quiet any longer and finally gave a desperate voice to his distress.

His whisper of a cry did not go by unnoticed by his father. It did, of course, hurt him to hear Connor in pain, pain he was causing him. But though his heart really wasn't in it, Angel's resolve was definitely there, driving him to deliver the punishment his child needed, the only way he knew would stick with him.

"Ahoww—" Connor moved his unsupported legs in a tight, kicking sort of motion, the fiery throbbing in his bottom becoming unbearable.

Angel held him securely around his tapered waist, ensuring that Connor would stay in place, whether he wanted to or not.

Begging for mercy was not an option Connor was about to give into. It was a show of weakness, and if there was anything more he hated than to show weakness he hadn't found it yet. It'd be pathetic and childish of him to give some desperate ploy for sympathy or mercy, and he was certainly above doing that, no matter how much he was hurting.

That strong resolution lasted for all of sixty seconds more until Angel's steely hand found a spot Connor was positive he'd spanked over about a thousand times already and he couldn't hold back.

"Dad—" Connor got out as he fought valiantly to keep his voice from breaking at least, "Oww, please..."

Getting only more swats for his troubles, the teen held his tongue, wondering why he should even bother when he knew whatever he said would make no difference to the man. It would be better to just try and manage to make it through the rest of his punishment.

But that maneuver quickly failed him as well and he started grunting and gasping repeatedly. Perhaps a bit more pleading might do him some good after all.

"Dad I..." He started to try again. "I'm sorry!" Connor was sure apologizing would help him out better than anything else could so he tried to get across his true feelings of regret for what he'd done earlier.

And he did, truly, regret what he'd done, if only because it now was costing him the ability to sit down for a few days.

"I'm sure you are," Angel gave the fidgeting boy a resounding round of smacks from the palm of his hand. "But is that because you're getting a spanking for it or because you're really sorry?"

Of course he'd ask him that now. "The other one," Connor answered as he winced.

Angel kept back a chuckle but he did smile slightly since he couldn't be seen, "And which one is that Connor?"

"I'm sorry for..." Connor took a deep breath, trying to keep his erratic emotions under control as best he could, "For disobeying you and putting myself in danger."

"That sounds about right," he told him, "And I hope you mean that, because if I keep having to do this..."

Angel's hand flew over his son's backside suddenly.

"You won't!" Connor cried out as he twisted to the side, trying to dodge his body free from the attack and was entirely unsuccessful.

"But if I do, I will, and you know I mean that. I don't care how old you are or what you think you should be able to do or not, if you get into trouble I will always deal with you."

Connor didn't know how to reply, Angel's words cut deeply, past his defenses. He just wasn't very good at following orders or obeying unless he was made to, physically, though it wasn't for lack of trying on his part, and Angel realized that and for whatever reason instead of being upset or angry with the boy he seemed to accept it, without complaint. But why? The teenager still couldn't understand it. After everything they'd been through together, he was still so much work, and yet his father refused to give up on him.

"I know I screw up a lot, I—I just…"

Connor didn't finish as he went somewhat blind from the liquid that collected in his bright blue circles, same as before. Expect this time, blinking from necessity, the hot fluid was released and a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

He really was sorry; sorry for being so much work and sorry that he couldn't seem to just listen and do as he was told when he knew his father only wanted the best for him.

Angel could smell the salty water and knew from that and how Connor's body now shook more intensely across his knees that the boy was crying.

He did hate how it took going this far, taking his son to this point, to get the teen to open up the flood gates and actually feel and allow himself to be vulnerable and cared for.

His own heart was heavy and Angel desired to be over and done with the discipline, so he went on ahead with the inevitable next stage.

Connor struggled to stop his soft sobbing and then he felt Angel's hand at the back of his briefs. "No Dad—"

He knew that he was going to be bared sometime during the spanking, it happened more than it didn't, but that still didn't mean he could just let it happen, even if it really wasn't up to him either way.

Angel didn't react and soon his blushing son was bare bottomed and then that bare bottom started getting whacked again.

"Ahhoww!" Connor yelled out as his father's hand kissed his fully exposed flesh. The pain being inflicted was now multiplied many times over and it was breaking him down even faster.

"No..." His eyes closed and his legs went stiff as his toes curled up against the hardwood involuntarily; the main entity in control of his actions and responses was now only the agony he felt.

"Please—" The tears were back with a vengeance and they streamed down his cheeks, pooling underneath his chin.

Angel though seemed perfectly content to keep whacking away regardless, giving Connor the sense that the spanking would never end and his father was trying to kill him.

But Angel knew exactly how much longer he was going to keep up the punishment, and how long he should.

"Dad please...I prom... owww—Dad I promise I'll never do it again."

Knowing Angel heard him, the question was now one of whether or not he believed him.

Connor held one arm across his eyes and moved his head side to side, using his shirt sleeve to absorb the tears he still refused to let fall. Not just tears of pain or guilt or embarrassment, those had come and gone already, no, these were the tears of the young child he still was in so many ways that would rather be in his Daddy's strong arms, snuggled in like a boy half his age than over his lap for a bare bottom spanking.

Angel stretched out his arm over the bed and grabbed the hairbrush.

Connor felt the cool wood settle down on top of his blistering derrière and he stiffened. He was instantly reminded of just how well his father could wield the object, and what it did to him.

Already on the edge, it wouldn't take much more to send him careening over it, and into that place of raw neediness that craved love and attention so badly.

He wanted to give in but couldn't. Still, he couldn't.

Running his tongue over dry lips, Connor tried to think of some way to escape without having a total meltdown.

"Dad just—Daddy just wait a minute."

Angel raised an eyebrow at the name Connor rarely threw his way, "What?"

"I mean it I have...I get that it was really stupid of me going out, it was dangerous and I'll never do it again, ever, I swear. I've learned my lesson."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"And—" He began as he inched up on Angel's lap as much as he could, " I mean, I don't need any more of...of this either."

"This?" Angel repeated as he picked up the brush from his son's backside and rotated it in his hand, "Connor, are you trying to tell me something?"

"I...I don't need you to-"

Hearing the words in his own head was bad enough, getting ready to let them come out of his mouth was a thousand times worse, but if it got him a reprieve, it was worth it.

"I don't- You don't have to keep spanking me."

"I don't? Why not?"

"Dadd..."

"Connor, you got just my hand last time and here we are again. I need you to start accepting that when or if I tell you to do or not do something you need to listen and take me seriously. You can't keep thinking you're the boss or you can do whatever you want whenever you want to. I'm the Dad and you're the kid, that's not going to change, ever, and if you won't keep yourself safe and stay out of trouble all on your own then I will step in."

The words "Daddy, please don't" ran through Connor's mind but he couldn't willingly say them. It wasn't even about pride at this point, it was about fear, about getting even closer to the man who terrified him and yet made him feel safer than he had ever felt before.

The first, mighty and forceful swat from the brush was placed directly across the middle of Connor's pulsating bottom.

Connor's hands found their way down Angel's leg and he grabbed onto it, gripping it as if it was a lifeline.

Angel delivered the cracks from the hairbrush fast and furious.

His body jerked at the onslaught and the child cried out in pain.

He was losing what little control he had left and they both knew it, but only one of them was happy about it.

"N—noo..." Connor spoke the word brokenly as he desperately tried to keep himself from giving in, giving up to what he was feeling and thinking.

Connor exhaled and moaned, his forehead touching the floor, his entire body seemed engulfed in flames.

"Please stop!"

The plea echoed through the room, the child's legs kicking frantically.

"Daddy!"

Connor tried once again to switch positions on Angel's lap, or better yet climb down off of it, but couldn't move himself barely a millimeter with his father's arm wrapped around his middle in a hold he could never hope to break free from.

"Owww! Daddy please!"

Connor hated himself for buckling, softening, but it was hurting too much for him to care, for him to worry about what he was saying or who he was saying it to.

"No more, please!"

Angel's only reply was another round of scalding swats from the brush.

Connor murmured as his fingernails dug down into Angel's leg like talons, "Dad I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, please stop, please..."

Angel could hear the cracks, the breaks in his son's voice. The defiance, the pride, the coldness that usually shut him out, they were all being lost in the wave of emotions that was rushing through the teen's entire being, sweeping over his mind and his heart.

"Dad...Daddy I can't –"

Connor reached back with his right hand and covered up his aching and afflicted backside.

Angel stilled his arm and stared down at Connor's back, "Connor, move your hand."

He could only shake his head. "Daddy I'll be good…please stop…"

"If you don't move it then I will."

Angel didn't say another word when Connor failed to comply and obey, as he expected.

Maneuvering his free arm just so, he took hold of his son's wrist, pinning it down to the small of Connor's back.

The teenager tried to wriggle his arm free and was rewarded with no movement at all; he was completely at Angel's mercy.

Making sure he had Connor completely immobilized, Angel abandoned the brush. He wanted the end to be punctuated with his hand, not some piece of impersonal hardwood.

On top of a rear end that was entirely now a mass of bruised nerve endings, causing him a very significant amount of anguish, there were now also feelings of helplessness that Connor now had penetrate his mind.

To know he had no control over what was happening to him, that he could try and fight, battle, bite, claw, scratch, it wouldn't matter, his best efforts would mean nothing and get him nowhere. Only until Angel was good and ready to let him go would he finally be free from it all. The weight of the truth caused the child to shatter inside.

He was totally Angel's. Completely his to do whatever he wanted with, and he chose to do this; to punish him, to correct him, to try and keep him alive despite his stubborn, hardheadedness.

His shuddering frame rocked back and forth across Angel's lap as tears, real and honest, flooded his eyes, tears that soon gathered together in puddles, staining the floor in front of him.

Angel remained steadfast, knowing he had fatherly duties still to attend to, as his big hand took up where the brush left off.

And for his part in it, Connor continued to sob.

"Owww! Dad I'm sorry!

His father gave both smoldering cheek a spank each, "I think you'll think twice next time before you decide to defy me and disobey my orders, right Connor?"

"Yes!" Connor assured him readily, "Yes sir, I won't do it again, I promise..."

Angel dealt out a few more smacks and Connor gave the most natural reaction as he waved his legs through the air and gave a shout.

"Ahhowwwww! Daddy stop!"

"I want to be sure you've learned your lesson this time."

"I have!" Connor replied back as he wondered how much more it would take before Angel killed him or he passed out, "I swear I have!"

"You've sworn that before," Angel rested his hand directly on top of his son's bottom. "Connor there are only so many chances I can give you to behave before I start taking charge, and you know what that will mean."

"I—I know..." Connor whimpered. "It won't happen again Daddy, I'll be good."

"You don't have to worry about being good, just don't get yourself killed."

Angel's eyes flashed and his hand went once more from soothing touches to heavy smacking.

It was just too much, too much for him take anymore.

"I'm sorry! I'll never do it again! Never again Daddy! Please stop, please!"

Connor openly begged right before he went limp with exhaustion.

Angel knew the moment had, finally, come and he gathered up his tormented little boy as if he was a toddler of three instead of a growing boy of nearly eighteen.

Connor was too busy weeping to notice he'd been moved, the immense misery he felt due to the swollen mass of skin which was once his bottom held his attention for the time being.

Angel looped one arm around his son's waist and back for support as he curled the shivering, thin body right up against his chilled chest.

He sniffled and tried his best to stop crying, but he was not making much progress.

But the boy was then awarded a very good reason to not stop his tears when he felt Angel's sturdy hand smack him yet again.

"Ahhooww!" Connor looked at his father with wide, wet eyes filled with worry. "Daddy…?"

"The next time you ever fight me like this you can kiss this place and your freedom goodbye, is that clear?"

Angel then smacked him three more times for good measure.

"Ow! I got it! I won't!" Connor dared to reach back and block his bottom with one hand for protection's sake. "I'll do better Daddy, I promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

Angel took his spanking hand and began to rub slow, massaging circles over his son's tense spine, encouraging the child to release some tension swirling around inside of his body.

Connor breathed out and relaxed against the man's loving touch. The caresses told him that his punishment was not only finally over with, but that he was also forgiven. And he needed to know that, and feel it.

The child snuggled up in his father's arms, his face half buried in Angel's soft, sweet smelling shirt, his left arm draped around his father's thick neck.

Angel squeezed him tenderly, taking care to mind the boy's injured side, his chin resting on top of the teen's head lightly.

Physical closeness for Connor was something he'd never been comfortable with, especially with Angel.

There was always real meaning in the act, a loneliness and grief that Connor knew the reason for; he was a part of it; it was there because of him.

But despite his, many, issues with it, it was the one thing he craved, without restraint, after being disciplined.

He needed the contact from Angel, to be touched, be coddled, and be comforted.

To be loved, unconditionally, without anything else asked of him.

And Angel never asked questions, as to why it was that way, he would just be there, with the reassurance Connor sought out and until he was ready, Angel never let go of him first.

There was no heartbeat for Connor to hear as he lay on his father's chest, and his torso was without any warmth or body heat. And yet those arms and that lap, he knew there was no better place in the world for him to be.

Even though Angel was without the attributes that typically made up a human, Connor was well versed from experience that having a living, physical body didn't mean much else was inside.

If he dared to he'd try to plant a kiss on the boy's forehead, but Angel had yet to find enough courage to chance it just yet, the fear was too great that he'd ruin things.

Connor always wondered why Angel never did, he'd seen other fathers with their sons in close moments of intimacy, a quick peck, short and sweet, and sometimes it was a kiss that lingered when it was a goodbye being said.

Connor thought maybe Angel was afraid that if he did kiss him, it would be a goodbye for them as well, as it had been the last time.

At the reminder that made him shiver, Connor moved even more inward into Angel's embrace, just to make sure he was really there with him, his real father's form, his hands, his unnecessary soft breathing.

Angel hugged him straightaway, not knowing what had prompted the abrupt action, but if Connor needed to get nearer still to him, he'd be more than happy to grant him all the access he desired.

The only sounds that could be heard came from outside.

Cars passing by; the clicks and slaps of heels and soles as people walked down the sidewalk; the muted conversations that went on between some.

Neither Angel nor Connor said a word to each other, and it was like that every time.

They didn't need them to know what the other was thinking or feeling.

He'd readily deny it if asked, but Connor knew he shared a special connection with Angel. It went beyond spoken words or shy glances or even shows of public displays of affection.

It went beyond the average, ordinary bond of a father and son.

It ended in a realm of such love and want and need that it frightened Connor at times.

And he never had to say he felt that way, he wasn't sure he ever could. But he also knew he didn't have to.

Connor smiled at the thought before he raised his head up to see Angel just staring at him.

"What?" Connor asked as his forehead wrinkled up slightly when he frowned.

Angel's eyes seemed to sparkle with a secret.

"You were smiling."

"Was not..."

His chest moved outward as he chuckled.

"I think I know what a smile looks like."

"And_ I_ think I know when I smile, which is never so—"

Connor caught his father's amused look growing and poked at his chest with one finger, "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Angel adjusted the boy in his arms, holding him more upright.

Connor squirmed around to get comfortable. "Stop looking at me like I just did something cute."

"But you did," Angel nodded.

"Did not," Connor retorted back.

"Are you seriously going to argue with me over whether or not you just smiled?"

"Yes."

"God, you're such a brat," Angel told him as he stared down into glistening orbs of blue fire.

"I'm your kid, what else could I be?"

"Oh no, you didn't get it from me, that part of you is all Darla."

Connor snickered which made his father grin. "See? Now you're even laughing."

"Okay, I want down now," he demanded as he pushed on Angel's arms hugging him close.

Angel shook his head, "Nope, I'm not ready yet."

Connor groaned, "Daddy, I want down."

His face held a look of mock surprise, "We're still on that are we?"

He glared at the man. "_Dad_," he made sure to punctuate the word, "Put me down."

"Umm...No."

"Dad, come on, I mean it," the teen said next.

"Is that how you ask me to do something though?"

"Oh my god..." Connor muttered, " Fine, Dad would you please let me go now?"

Angel nodded, "Much better."

He allowed his arms to go lax and Connor scooted off.

"It's late," Angel stood up himself. "You need to get some sleep. I do not want you leaving or going out until morning okay? I'll be back then to help with that," he pointed at Connor's bandage.

"You got that? I can easily spank you again tomorrow so don't push it."

Connor shook his head as one hand moved down to cup a still, very warm and sore cheek, "Dad don't worry, I won't go anywhere."

"I know." Angel turned and began to walk over to the open window he'd used to come inside the loft to wait.

Connor followed after him, going easy with his ankle to cope with.

He straddled the windowsill, looking back at his child.

"You sure you don't want to come home with me? Just for tonight, I can carry you."

The boy ducked his head and shook it.

"Dad—I'll be fine, you don't have to worry so much about me you know?"

"Actually yeah, I kinda do, comes with being your dad."

Angel flashed a kind smile. "That and I love you."

"Da..."

Connor felt himself being pulled in by one of his father's long arms and Angel cradled him up as he whispered the three words again in his son's ear.

Connor couldn't use his words, not yet, his face hiding in Angel's neck, he nodded instead, clutching his father's shirt in both hands.

They remained that way for a minute or so, and Angel was the one who at last broke them apart again.

The child needed rest, and time to think.

He gave Connor's bottom a gentle pat before he finally set him back down on the floor.

He smiled at him and ruffled his hair, causing Connor to move back from him with an expression of joy and sadness perfectly mingled together.

"I'll see you kiddo," Angel used the pet term he knew Connor hated, at least he so claimed, before sliding on out the window and standing on the outside ledge.

He paused.

Connor stood still and silent, staring at Angel's back.

Angel could feel his son's eyes on him so he glanced over his shoulder at the boy.

Two fingers pressed to his lips first, arched in the direction of Connor next, and then he fell backwards and dropped down out of sight.

Connor hobbled right up to the window quickly and looked out.

Angel was already gone, swallowed up by the night, as he knew he would be.

A soft breeze came in and caused his hair to fly back and away from his face, arms wrapping around himself as if he was suddenly cold.

"Love you too..."

The gentle movement of air took the words out with it but they were immediately lost among the louder noises of the night.

Maybe one day he could say them to his father's face.

Maybe.

Connor was tired, sore, and knew it wouldn't be long until sunrise.

He shut the window and headed off to bed.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*fin*<em>**


End file.
